


Let Me Go

by OpalSpirit



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Atticus - Freeform, Escape Attempts, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual escape, F/M, Falsely admitted, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), Lang Leav, Libraries, Manhunt - Freeform, Mental Institutions, Michael Faudet, Nikita Gill, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pablo Neruda's Poetry, Post-Avengers (2012), Protective Loki, Psychotropic Drugs, Redemption done wrong, Restraints, SHIELD, Slow Burn, Solitary Confinement, This is a dark fic, art therapy, be warned, beau taplin, librarian loki, there may be a few triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25197949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalSpirit/pseuds/OpalSpirit
Summary: Her form said she was severely delusional and bordering on schizophrenic. What was written on there, was in fact, a lie.Locked away from the world, she is trapped with those whose minds are afflicted. Prevented from contact with anyone, she has never felt more alone, or more determined to escape. Gradually she loses count of the days and she fears for her mind. Until she meets him. The hospital Librarian. She quickly learns that there is more to him than meets the eye.With his magic restrained, Loki finds himself near powerless in the face of humanity's darker side. The books give him a measure of peace, a peace that is shattered when she walks into his life.Together, they form a plan of escape from their tormentors. But should they break free, will the world simply leave them be? Or will they be hunted until they have nowhere left to run?
Relationships: Loki/Reader
Kudos: 22





	1. I shouldn't be here...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You aren't what's happened to you, you are how you've overcome it. 
> 
> ~ Beau Taplin (Overcome)

The rain was cold and froze to ice on her skin from the wind as she ran. Her thin slippers had long since been lost, easily slipping loose and disappearing into the night behind her. Her h/l h/c hair was plastered to her face and her chest heaved with every breath she took. She was not used to running this long and beneath her, her legs were threatening to collapse should she slow for even a moment. Her nightgown clung to her, dragging along her legs as she ran. 

The gravel of the road was made slippery by the rain and was as sharp as needle points to her cold, bare feet. Still, she ran. What else could she do but run? To stop would mean to risk being found. To be found meant being taken back and that was the last thing in the world that she wanted. Her mind raced as her legs did. Worse case scenarios hurtled through her mind as she ran through the rain-soaked night.

_Would they finally make good on their threat to put her into Solitary?_

_Would they use one of their horror-movie machines on her?_

_Would they force her into one of those awful jackets from which there was no escape?_

Fear soon joined the adrenaline. Her only sources of light came from the far-between streetlights. There were no houses, the only living things were the animals that lived in the woods on either side of the highway. She had no thought for them and would have taken to running through the forest had she not been worried about injuring herself in the dark. 

Even the moon was hidden from her. Hidden behind the towering trees that swayed wildly in the wind. She had no way of telling how far she had managed to go. There were no markers or signposts that directed one to civilization.

She prayed to whomever might be listening that she would never have to see that place again. That she would at least get to a phone and call her mother. Her mother who had been away on a mission when all this had happened. When her life had become a nightmare she could not wake up from. It was the simple, fleeting thought of her mother that threatened to bring her to her knees and cry her heart out. Did her mother even know? Or had he lied to her? _Again._

Swallowing hard and fighting to keep the tears and pain at bay, she pushed on. Her heart thundered in her chest and her blood rushed through her ears until it became all she could hear.

The lights from an oncoming vehicle had her dive off the road and into the brush. The car sped by, appearing not to have seen her. Waiting for a spell, she forced herself to keep going. Tiny lacerations marked her arms and legs in thin lines of red, the rain and wind made them sting.

Daring one look over she shoulder, she smiled grimly at seeing only darkness behind her.

Her feet had long since grown numb and she barely felt the cold, sharp gravel anymore. Stumbling every now and then, she managed to keep herself from face-planting the road completely.

It the distant, ghost-like shape of a sign that made her weep with relief. The words became clearer as she stumbled closer. Struggling to stay upright, she swayed dangerously as she read the sign, it signaled entry into the town the hospital was named after. The name made her flinch and mutter all sorts of unladylike words under her breath. Nevertheless, it meant shelter from the cold and the very real chance to speak with her mother.

Clenching her jaw, she swiped hair away from her face and commanded her legs to keep moving. Each step felt as though she had weights strapped to her ankles. Making sure to stick to the very edge of the road, she kept her eyes out for the lights of the oncoming town. She remembered it being quite small. But hopefully it would be big enough to at least have one phone booth. She dreaded the thought of having to ask one of the residents. She had never been good at asking for help, least of all now, in her current situation. She doubted any would help her, they would call the hospital instead.

No. She wouldn't risk it. She couldn't. She had come this far, after weeks of planning and paying close attention to even the tiniest details. It would all be shot to pieces if she dared to ask for help.

There was no doubt in her mind that her absence had already been noted. Absconders weren't unusual, but were always considered as one of the highest security breaches. It was more than likely that guards had been sent out to look for her and _he_ had been alerted. The mere thought of him made her frozen blood boil. The memory of his smug smile haunted her dreams and only fueled her desire for revenge. To do what she had been planning. To expose him for what he really was.

_'You have made my life hell,'_ she thought as his face came to mind. _'I will make you wish for hell when I am through with you.'_

Her chest felt as though it were on fire by the time the first lights blinked into view. The shape of houses made her think she was imagining things. Something as ordinary as a house was something she had never imagined to ever see again. Not after her world had become one of concrete buildings and high, electrified fences. To see tiled roofs and brick walls with curtained windows had become a thing of fantasy for her. Windows that did not have bars welded to the frames and beds that did not feel as though one was sleeping on a stone slab. She missed her own bed more than she ever imagined she would. The softness of it and smell that always made her feel safe and secure. 

She had not felt either of those two things for quite some time now.

A strange conflict arose within her. The desire to feel the comfort of relative normalcy battled the fear of being seen by those who lived in these houses. Choosing instead to remain in the shadows, she crept through the sleeping town. More a village than a town, there was only one main street. The small number of shops were clustered together, as though huddled together in the face of the cold, inclement weather.

Hunching her shoulders against the persistent rain, she made her way as best she could across the partially lit streets. For there, just a short distance away, was the village's singular telephone booth. Her salvation.

Stumbling towards it, she reached out a trembling hand and took hold of the door and pulled it open. The relief she felt upon stepping inside was overwhelming. Using the walls of the booth for support, she took up the phone and held it to her ear while she dug out the few coins she had squirreled away. After dropping the coins a few times, she finally managed to feed them into the machine.

Her hand shook terribly as she pushed the numbers down. As the dial tone sounded, she leaned forward and let her head rest just above the keypad. "Come on mum," she whispered desperately. "Please pick up." The tears she had been fighting for so long finally spilled free. _"Please."_

Then, after what felt like hours, "hello?"

A small cry left her before her legs gave way beneath her and she slid down to ground, the phone pressed to her ear. "Mumma?" She whimpered.

"Y/N? Baby, is that you?" Her mother's voice called through the receiver.

"Y-yes."

"Oh my sweet girl!" Her mother exclaimed. "I have missed you so. Why didn't you call sooner?"

She was confused and furrowed her brow. "C-call?"

"Your father said you had gone to check out some of the colleges you wanted to apply for," her mother explained.

"H-he's n-not my-"

"Father, I know," her mother sighed. "Oh my darling, I have been so worried. Ever since I got back, I haven't seen hide nor hair of you. I am so glad you finally called."

"No," she whispered, unable to believe what her mother was saying. That bastard had lied to her, just as she had thought he might. "M-mum? C-can you come get me?"

"Come get you?" Her mother repeated and then paused before speaking again, in a gentler tone. "Is everything alright? Has something happened?"

"Y-you could say that."

"What is it?"

She inhaled shakily and fought to keep calm. She wanted nothing more than to reach through the phone and wrap her arms around her mother. Her scent and mere presence always calmed her. "I m-miss you mumma," she whimpered. "C-can you pl-please come get me?"

"Darling, you're scaring me," her mother replied, voice rife with concern. "Please tell me what's happened."

Nodding as if her mother could see her, she swallowed hard and tried valiantly to calm down. She did not know how much time she had before someone noticed her. "Don't let them take me mumma, please."

"Don't let who take you? Gorgeous, where are you? What's going on?"

She made to answer when the door to the booth was torn open, almost ripped off the hinges. "There you are."

She didn't have to look up to know who it was. Someone had seen her then. The guard's gruff voice made her flinch and curl around the phone. "Mumma?"

"I'm still here, darling. What's going on?" There was a note of hysteria in her mother's voice. "Y/N?"

"I love you mumma," she said into the phone as the guard reached down to her.

"I love you too my angel," her mother replied. "But please tell me what's going on!"

She never got the chance. The moment the guard had made a grab for her, she dodged him and ran right past him, only to run straight into his companion. His chest met her face and she stumbled back. Her legs were barely holding her up as it was.

"Not so fast little rabbit," the first guard sneered, a big meaty hand latching onto her bicep. No matter how hard she struggled, his grip would not give. "Quite the chase you lead us on. You got further than most do, we'll give you that."

She refused to give up. Her struggles increased and consisted mainly of flailing limbs. Limbs that were soon restrained by the second guard. "No more unescorted grounds excursions for this one," he muttered to his colleague. 

"Let's get her into the van. Be sure to sedate her first, you know how these delusionals and schizos get."

At the sight of the needle, her fight grew. No amount of wriggling helped. She let out a small yelp when the needle pierced her skin and the drug was pushed in. Soon her vision began to swim and her eyes felt heavy. Before she fell, the guard that had first restrained her, caught her.

She had failed, but she would be damned if she didn't try again. She would keep trying until she was free.


	2. When the shadows speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've never met a strong person with an easy past. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

From the shadows he watched. He watched as they brought her in. She hung in the guard's arms like a puppet that had its strings cut.

"How far did she get?" A nurse asked, checking the girl's pulse.

The guard grunted, hefting her up as she began to slip from his hold. "All the way into town."

"Goodness," the nurse muttered and stepped back. "Best get her to her room before the sedative wears off."

"Will counter measures be enforced?" The guard asked.

The nurse did not answer right away, she simply looked at the girl for a moment and sighed. "She can't be allowed to roam alone. She's to be accompanied everywhere she goes."

"Even after one time?"

She nodded. "One time is already too much. The other patients may well get ideas from her little expedition. Say she tries again and is successful, what will that tell the others?"

"I see your point," the guard conceded.

The shadows concealed him as he followed the guard. His footsteps were muffled and went mostly unheard. As they passed through the halls and wards, he would sometimes catch a split second glimpse of her. Her arms, decorated with thin red lines, swung with the guard's movements. Her hair was limp from the rain, though now only damp and run through with brambles and leaves. Her eyes were closed and he could clearly see where they had injected the needle, it stood out glaringly against her throat. Her head was flung back, exposing her neck. Her feet, he soon noticed, were bare. The soles were discoloured with bruising and dotted with red from countless cuts.

In short, she looked like a corpse more than a living being. He liked to think that she would be cold to the touch, not the chill of the dead, but the sharp cold that came from the rain.

Slipping into the room after them, he hid in the corner of the room. From the dark he continued to watch.

The guard moved swiftly and with little care. It became evident to his unseen observer that he had done this many times before. With practiced efficiency he laid the girl, he did not care for her name, straight on the still-made bed. Restraints appeared in his hands, restraints that every room was equipped with. Deftly he secured her prone form to the bed and left the room, making sure to lock the door behind him.

The moment the lock clicked, something separated itself from the shadows and approached the bed.

The light that came in through the window outlined the shape of a man. He was tall and carried himself proudly. Even as he knelt beside the bed. Canting his head to the side, the man looked at the young woman, still in the grips of whatever drug they had pushed into her.

After a long while of simply looking at her, the man extended a hand. The long, tapered fingers hovered over her face and traced the shape of her nose in the air above it. Retracting his hand, he looked to the restraints. Straps of leather they were, thick and sturdy. One such as her would struggle to release themselves without injury.

All because she had tried to escape. Because she dared to try for her freedom. The nurse's words rang in his ears. What little freedom this young woman once had, was now gone.

Movement from her had him quickly retreat to the shadows.

When she opened her eyes, it was to darkness. Her mind was slightly foggy as the drug wore off. Her throat was terribly dry and made her wince everytime she swallowed. Oh, what she would give for a glass of water.

Memories crashed into her with the speed of a bullet train. A frustrated growl left her and when she made to raise her arms, she found that she couldn't. Taking short, shallow breaths, she looked to the side where she believed her arm to be and moved it. It moved only a little and caused the leather to chafe against her wrists. The same, she discovered, had been done to her ankles.

Letting her head fall back against the pathetic excuse for a pillow, she screamed at the darkened ceiling. She knew it would do her no good to struggle, but she would damned if she gave up without a fight. The bed shifted against the tiled floor with her movements and she hissed in frustration and impatience.

She was sure that her wrists and ankles would be red raw by the time she had exhausted herself with her efforts. The skin burned, especially in the room's frigid air. "So close," she muttered, staring up into the dark. "So damn close."

"Would you dare to try again?"

The question, spoken by its unseen owner, made her jump as though doused with cold water. Her eyes flew to the shadows by the room's far wall. Her heart hammered in her chest. "Wh-who's there?" She stammered, scared out of her wits.

A soft chuckle answered her. The sound was low and painted gooseflesh over her arms and legs. "Oh little one," the voice said, softer this time. "It matters not who I am. It matters not who you are. No one cares for that here."

She swallowed hard, her breaths coming quickly. "Wh-what do you want?"

"The same as you, I would wager."

She shifted the little she could on the bed, turning in the direction of the voice. "How would you know what I want?" She asked, thankful that the stammering had subsided.

"All prisoners desire but one thing," the voice replied patiently. "Freedom."

"This is a hospital, not a prison," she said.

"Are you quite certain of that?"

She did not answer right away. There was truth in the question. Damn him, whoever he was. "No," she whispered. "Though I am certain of very little these days."

"Why is one such as you in a place like this?"

She raised an eyebrow, though she doubted he could see it. "One such as me?" She repeated.

"Sane."

"What makes you think I am sane?" She asked, shaken that someone she had never met already knew that much about her.

The speaker laughed again, it was warmer this time. "Your mind is not disturbed, as everyone else's are."

"How would you know such a thing?"

"I have my ways."

"To answer your question," she said softly. "I was brought here by someone who wanted me out of the way."

"What of your mother? Presuming she lives, does she know of this?"

She shook her head and sighed. "He lied to her, as I suspected he would. He told her I was travelling."

"May I inquire as to who _he_ is?"

"My stepfather," she replied, her blood beginning to boil. "I discovered something he didn't want me to. My mother was...abroad at the time."

"I am so very sorry to hear that, little one."

"What of you?" She asked, eyes searching the dark, hoping to see something move. Nothing did.

"What of me?"

"Are you a patient here too?" She explained. 

He paused and smiled grimly though she could not see it. "In a manner of speaking," he said.

"How so?"

"As your stepfather sent you here, my brother did the same. It was suggested to him by some of his.... _colleagues_."

"Your own brother did this?" She asked, aghast. "Why?"

"According to them, I am what is known as _criminally insane,"_ he explained. "I was sent here for the same reason you were, to be out of the way. So they would not have to lay eyes on me day after day."

"That's awful," she whispered. "But are you? You know, what they say you are?"

"I am many things," he replied. "But insane is not one of them."

"But why did your brother do that? You know, listen to them? Surely he would know you better than they?"

He nodded despite the darkness. "I once thought so too, little one."

To her ears he sounded sad, disappointed and though she did not know him, her heart went out to him. "I'm so sorry," she said softly. "That really sucks."

"What do they say you are?" He asked, drawing the attention away from him.

She laughed without humor. "Delusional and borderline schizophrenic."

"Norns," he muttered. "That is no small matter."

"I am inclined to agree," she said, sighing heavily. "But that was what he wrote on the form. You know, in case I say anything 'outrageous'."

"About what you found?"

She hummed in affirmation.

Silence settled between them and soon her eyelids began to droop before she lost the fight altogether. Had her eyes been open for a moment longer, she would have seen two forest green eyes emerge from the dark

"Mortals," he muttered, shaking his head. "Imprisoning their innocent among the guilty." Looking down, he frowned at his wrists where Stark's restraints glimmered in the low light. The power of them was strong indeed, but not quite strong enough. They fell into his waiting hands with a shimmer of green. Sparing one last glance for the young female, he turned and phased through the locked door, clasping the restraints back on. 

What they did not know, well, to say it would not hurt them would be a lie.


	3. More questions than answers...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hardest step she ever took was to blindly trust in who she was. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

Mila Ashton was uncomfortable. Never had she imagined herself to be where she was now. Having studied art alongside psychology had landed her a position as an art therapist at one of the country's most notorious mental institutions. Her discomfort did not stem from her patients, but rather what was done to them. 

Many did either not bother her or even acknowledge her presence outside of their sessions together. Save for one. He had stood out from the rest from the moment of his arrival. Mila's curiosity grew when she was allowed only limited access, and only ever in the presence of a guard. This man, this patient, he was different from the rest. She had read his form many times over and not once did he display any of the signs or symptoms mentioned.

Was it all for show? To gain her trust then slit her throat to move onto his next victim? He was her highest ranking patient in the entire facility. It was truly a wonder why they had not put him in solitary like they had with many others like him. Was it that charming smile of his? Or perhaps that voice that could convince anyone to do absolutely anything for him?

Shaking her head, Mila blinked back to the present and gazed out the window. There he was, surrounded by his own detachment of guards. Yet, he looked calmer than he ought to have been. _'_ _Perhaps that was what made him so dangerous,'_ she thought absently. Her eyes were drawn to the cuffs encircling his slender wrists. No chain connected them and no patient was permitted any form of jewellery. She, like the rest of the world, knew exactly who and what he was and not for the first time did she wonder why he was even here. Surely his own people had ways of handling ones such as he?

Yet, she could not bring herself to treat him as all the other staff did. While he unnerved her, she decided to smile where others didn't react. When he had smiled back for the first time, it had been a small one. But genuine nonetheless. It had been during their first conversation...

_Two guards stood to attention by the door as he sat before her. He did not smile, nor did he scowl. That face was blank of all emotion as their gazes met. Attired in the garb all patients wore, he appeared no less intimidating than he had that day in New York._

_Mila did not have to look at his file to know what his name was or what his supposed condition was. She smiled warmly and folded her hands on the desk before her. "I suppose names are in order," she said, "but as I already know who you are, I shall simply say that my name is Mila."_

_"Mila," he repeated softly, testing how her name sounded when he spoke it._

_"Now," she continued, leaning back in her chair, her folded hands landing in her lap. "As to why you are here, I am sure you know?"_

_This elicited a sneer, his thin lips curling. "Oh yes," he muttered. "They were sure to inform me, on multiple occasions."_

_"And what did they tell you?"_

_Here he mimicked her and leaned back in his chair. His forest green eyes were unreadable as he regarded her. "To be 'rehabilitated', at least, that is what they called it."_

_His words made her sigh. She had been in this post for only a few months but already she knew that not everything was as it appeared. "I'm afraid that there is something you ought to know," she said. "Something only the staff here know. The true reason as to why any of the patients are here."_

_The soft, almost apologetic way in which she spoke intrigued him. Why did her eyes bear a touch of sadness? "What is it?"_

_The breath she took shuddered within her. When she had discovered this, it had shaken her to the core. "The location of this place has nothing to do with those within its walls," she began. "Those that are brought here, are brought here to be forgotten. Both by the world and the ones that admitted them."_

_He shook his head minutely and looked away from her._

_"I'm sorry," she whispered, hating herself for the reaction he gave. Her job, her life's work was to heal, not to inflict more pain. Something she had just done. "I am sorry that your own brother has treated you so."_

_Her words, though soft, brought his gaze to hers. "How-?"_

_"It is my job to know all I can about those that walk through my door," she replied gently. "Also, I was there when you arrived. I saw him. I saw all of them."_

_He simply nodded._

_"My words have caused you pain," she murmured, watching him. "Perhaps it would have been best had I not said anything."_

_"No," he said immediately, surprising her. "No, it is best that I know. It really should surprise me," he laughed softly and the sound broke her heart. It was a hollow sound, broken._

_"But he is your brother," she said softly, "how could he possibly treat you thus? Even though I know what you've done, this is no way to treat one's family."_

_"No," he whispered, looking down at his hands. "I suppose it isn't."_

_Rising from her chair, Mila approached him, waving off the guards that moved away from their post at the door. Wordlessly, she knelt before him and smiled up at him. "I am here to help you," she said._

_"In what way?" He asked, smiling grimly. "Escape?"_

_At this, she chuckled and shook her head. "Not yet," she replied softly, the words going unheard by the guards._

_His eyes widened a fraction at her words and the sincerity in her eyes. "Why? Why would you help someone like me? It will only bring you trouble."_

_Mila nodded. "I know," she answered._

_The smile he gave her now mirrored the sincerity in her eyes. "Thank you."_

_She raised an eyebrow in question, "whatever for? I haven't done anything yet."_

_"Quite the contrary," he replied._

_Mila watched then, in confused silence as he was escorted out. She stayed where she was, standing in the middle of her office._

"Dr.Ashton?" 

The call of her name snapped her back to the present. Shaking her head in an effort to clear it, she turned to face the speaker. "Yes?"

The hulking form of an orderly filled her doorway, "the board is waiting for you."

Nodding, Mila remembered something about a board meeting, it would be her first. "I will be right along."

"Very well," the orderly replied and stepped outside, clearly waiting for her to follow.

Quickly gathering herself together, Mila adjusted her white coat and left her office to follow the orderly down the hall. The wards she passed on her way to the upper meeting room filled her with a sense of pity. All those she passed were victim to afflicted minds. And all of them had been left here, abandoned by their families and those that were meant to love them.

The upper meeting room was named such as to its location at the topmost level of the hospital. After climbing numerous flights of stairs, she entered the meeting room itself. As the orderly had informed her, all the members of the board were already there.

"Ah, Dr.Ashton, good of you to join us," a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair called out. Dr. Stewart, his security ID read.

Nodding and smiling politely, Mila seated herself in the remaining chair and settled herself.

"Now," Dr.Stewart said, looking down at the sheets of paper in front of him. "To the matters at hand. As I am sure you are all aware, there was a breach in our security system just last night. Despite the precautions set in place to prevent such a thing, a patient absconded in the early hours of the evening. Just how she managed it is being looked into as we speak."

Despite her curiosity as to who this person was, Mila elected to remain silent. Around her, more senior members of staff expressed their concerns regarding the spoken matter.

"From which ward was she?" A woman not much older than Mila asked. Her hair was jet black and lay across her shoulders in a clean braid. Mila squinted at her badge and saw her name to be Dr.Isabelle Montgomery.

"The South-East," Dr.Stewart replied, eliciting a gasp from the group.

Mila paled. She knew well which patients were housed there.

"How long has she been with us that she would attempt such a thing?" Dr.Montgomery asked, folding her slender, tanned hands on the table.

"Nearing on four months."

"Interesting," came the muttered reply. "Rather soon after her arrival, is it not?"

"The main thing is," Dr.Stewart continued, "is that she was found and is now back with us."

"Is it to be believed that she will try such a thing again?"

Dr.Stewart nodded. "Undoubtedly. Those that have had a taste of freedom, of the world beyond the walls, will always want more."

"Might I inquire as to who this person is?" Mila finally spoke up, her curiosity would not allow her to remain silent for a moment longer.

Her question silenced the room. Ten pairs of eyes stared at her. It was obvious that they were already aware as to the identity of the patient. It was Dr.Montgomery that answered, her thin lips curved into a smile. "Patient 4378 of course."

That. That was what Mila hated most of all. The patients were stripped of everything, even their names. How was she to know who that was? Her confusion must have been easy to read for the black-haired woman chuckled, the sound sending shivers running laps along Mila's spine.

"I forget that you are still quite new," she said. "Patient 4378, also known as Y/N Y/L/N."

"Right," Mila murmured, making sure to remember that name. "Might I request her for a session?"

The response was immediate and startling. "No," Dr.Stewart said. "I'm afraid that's not possible."

"But why ever not?" Mila asked, leaning forward a little. "Surely some time with her would allow me to help her. That is why I am here, after all. That is why we are all here."

"I'm sorry, Doctor, it is simply not possible."

"But why?" Mila persisted. Damn it! She needed answers. "She can't possibly be more dangerous than Loki and you've let me have a few sessions with him now."

Dr.Stewart narrowed his eyes at her but she refused to back down. "Patient 9742 is a different matter altogether. Their cases are not to be confused. I understand that you are still quite new to this world, but trust me when I say, it would be unwise for you to come into contact with 4378."

Mila ground her teeth and forced herself to stay put. She waited impatiently for the meeting to end, the discussions around her became a blur. The moment it was adjourned, she rose as calmly as she could manage and departed.

The journey back to her office became waylaid as she took a turn through the grounds. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see it. The South-East ward. Perhaps it was time she paid it a visit.


End file.
